


Boxing Day

by Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Strip Tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 19:19:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3180122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw/pseuds/Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is traditional in England to give one's servants a present in a box on the day after Christmas. Madame Vastra creatively misinterprets this tradition in the smuttiest way possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boxing Day

Jenny Flint rolls onto her side, trying to keep the morning sun out of her eyes. It had been a late night: aliens, invading London, on Christmas Day. Again. “If this is going to become a tradition,” she'd told the Doctor, “you can count me out.” Still, it had been nice to have company for dinner, even if they'd had to save creation on a full stomach afterwards. 

She smiles with the memory and rolls back over, trying to find the shadiest bit of bed without opening her eyes. “Vas?” she asks, realizing that the bed is empty. Her wife isn't usually an early riser—it's all she can do to drag the reptile out of bed from November to March. Maybe she'd gotten hungry. Even with the Doctor and Clara to visit, there are still plenty of leftovers—maybe she'll fry up a bit of the ham and some of the potatoes with a couple of eggs. Her stomach growls, and she pulls a thick bathrobe on over her nightgown to make breakfast. 

“Not in the kitchen,” Jenny tells no-one in particular. She takes a slice of mince pie to take the edge off her hunger while she ponders the mystery of her missing wife. “No errands to run, and nothing open. No pressing cases to investigate.” She ticks off possibilities, eliminating the least likely first. “That means still in the house.” She finishes the last of her pie and stalks off through the manor. She is a detective, after all.

A new mystery is added to the first when she enters the ball room. An enormous crate is sitting in the middle of the floor, and next to it, a chair. “What the devil?” she asks aloud. Is it the TARDIS?—a TARDIS, she reminds herself, given that the Master was running amok until fairly recently. “Hello?” she asks hesitantly. Just then, the crate begins whirring and buzzing, its sides lowering mechanically as a pole telescopes up to the ceiling. A phonograph begins playing sultry music as, smack in the middle of it all...

“Vastra?” Jenny asks. 

“It's traditional,” Vastra informs her earnestly. “Employers give their servants boxed presents on the day after Christmas.” She clasps her hands (currently covered in sheer elbow-length gloves) in front of her corseted chest. “I know you fuss about our little charade, so I thought you might actually enjoy the benefits.” She smiles, baring teeth better suited for ripping meat from bones than for comforting. “Now sit, please,” she adds, pointing at the chair.

Jenny feels herself warm—both from embarrassment at still being in frumpy pajamas while her wife is painstakingly sexed up and from arousal at...much the same circumstances. She hurries into the chair as Vastra resets the phonograph. “The routine is carefully choreographed,” Vastra explains artlessly at the music resumes. She has no idea where her partner managed to find the time to arrange all this, let alone without her knowledge. 

And then there is no brain for thinking as Vastra whirls herself around the pole. Thank goodness for 20th century undergarments, Jenny muses, as these maneuvers don't look possible in a crinoline. “Good Lord,” she mutters as Vastra leans over backwards, supporting herself with just her legs. The move would have given her a quick look down her cleavage, if the Silurian had any; she's still impressed, and aroused, which is the point. 

Another minute or so of athleticism, and Vastra abandons the pole to saunter deliberately over to Jenny, one high-heeled foot in front of the other. Jenny allows herself a leer—she is putting on a show, after all. Vastra closes to within arm's-length, and one gloved finger snakes out to just between Jenny's breasts, then up her sternum and the hollow of her throat. Before Jenny can remember to breathe again, her wife has already turned away, strutting back towards the pole as she tugs off her gloves and tosses them carelessly over her shoulders. 

Jenny's mouth waters as Vastra grinds gently against the pole and loosens her corset. She can smell their arousal, and she wants to beg her dear lizard to come closer for both their sakes, but her tongue is maddeningly tied. The problem only gets worse when the corset falls to the ground, revealing row after row of emerald scales. You're lovely, she thinks, and Vastra turns to face her.

The Silurian retraces her steps until she's right on top of Jenny, who can see up close just how wet her knickers are. But not for long, as it happens, as Vastra sheds them dramatically, easing them over her hips. She settles onto Jenny's lap, and pulls her into a kiss with both hands.

“You're freezing,” Jenny says, a note of genuine concern in her voice. She opens her robe and lets Vastra in. 

“I'm sure you can think of some way to warm me up,” Vastra says huskily. Their smiling lips meet again. On second thought, Jenny thinks to herself, if this is how their Christmases are going to go, she might be okay with things on balance.

**Author's Note:**

> Just to be clear, this takes place after some unspecified, untelevised adventure, after Series 8, not immediately after Deep Breath.


End file.
